Cold and Lonely in the Night
by A2MOM
Summary: War necessitates the reassignment of personnel, regardless of who loves who. Multi pairings (read and see!) M for sex, language, mature themes. Multiple points of view. Lots of angst and sad feels with a happy ending.


Cold and Lonely in the Night

* * *

"Enactment of Regulation 501-2-Reassignment of Duty due to critical troop casualties: All personnel with a minimum of 9 (Nine) months active duty experience shall be reassigned at the discretion of the Commanding Officer. Reassignments may be temporary or permanent, to be reviewed on a case by case basis…"

* * *

Cain

The day before the troop transport came; Cain went to speak with Keeler.

He found the lanky lead navigator alone in the Ward Room, frowning down at his tablet while nursing a cup of coffee. It was 0100 hours, but Keeler was still working, dark circles under his ice blue eyes and long braid spilling messily over one shoulder. Cain hesitated, loathe to interrupt what had to be the first private moment Keeler had had in God knew how many days. It was now or never; so setting his jaw, he strode quickly into the room.

Keeler looked up at his approach, and Cain could see the realization dawn on his face before he was halfway across the room.

"You got your orders?" Keeler asked unnecessarily, motioning for Cain to sit.

"Yes sir," Cain answered, sliding into a chair, and Keeler's thin shoulders sagged.

"Oh Cain," he whispered sadly. "I'm so sorry."

Cain shrugged. "It was gonna be my turn sooner or later, sir," he said, not quite able to force a smile.

Keeler rested his hands atop the table, lacing his fingers together. "Any idea where you're being sent?"

"The _Excelsior_, sir."

Keeler smiled briefly. "I know her Captain, he was one of my Academy instructors. He's a good man; hard, but fair."

Cain gave a tight smile, wanting to cut through the bullshit small talk and get this over with. "Sir," he started, then cleared his throat nervously. "I was wondering if I could ask you a favor?" At Keeler's inquiring look, he plowed on. "I'm going to need help tomorrow when I ship out. "

_With Abel_, he couldn't bring himself to say, but Keeler was nodding in understanding. There wasn't anyone else he could ask; half their friends already shipped off to bases all along the border, some even to combat duty on Colony Six. Cain was at least going to another starcraft carrier, he'd still be flying when he went into battle.

Just not in the _Reliant._ And not with Abel.

"What time do you depart?" Keeler asked tiredly, breaking into his thoughts.

"0800 hours, sir."

Keeler gave him a reassuring smile. "I'll be there."

* * *

Abel

They made it all the way to the hangar deck before Abel started to cry.

"Dammit!" he swore, wiping his eyes angrily. "I pro-promised you I wasn't going to do this!"

Cain gave an exasperated tch. "C'mon princess, don't be a drama queen," he said gruffly, slinging his duffel over his shoulder with a grunt. He pulled Abel close to him with his free arm in a fierce hug.

Abel clung to him and buried his face in his hair, hitching sobs racking his body. "I don't—I don't want you to go!" he bawled, making a scene but helpless to stop himself. He felt both of Cain's strong arms squeeze him tight, too tight, and Abel never wanted him to let go. "Don't leave me Cain, please!"

"All non-essential personnel clear hangar deck, pre-launch sequence for Transport Eleven starting in five minutes; repeat, all non-essential personnel clear hangar deck for vessel departure…."

"Time to go, baby" Cain whispered in his ear, and Abel felt like his heart was being ripped right out of his chest. His pulse started to race in panic.

"No…" Abel whimpered, as Cain disengaged gently. Cain pulled one of his black gloves free, wiping the tears from Abel's face with a sad smile. "Cain, I-I love you…!"

"I know, baby," Cain whispered, reaching up to uncurl Abel's fingers from their death grip on his flight suit. "You made me the luckiest fucker in the galaxy, for a while." He kissed Abel, mouth open and soft, and said, "Goodbye, Abel," against his lips.

He stepped back; letting his fingers trail along Abel's blotchy, tear streaked cheeks, gazing at him like he was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Abel wept bitterly, Keeler already there behind him and holding him back with an arm around his waist, speaking low and urgent in his ear.

"Cain!" he sobbed in anguish and Cain stopped and turned back to him one last time.

"Take care, Princess," he tried to smile, and then turned and strode up the steps of the transport ship, and out of Abel's life.

* * *

Keeler

Abel had to be almost carried from the hangar bay. Thank God Cassius had been on duty; he hurried across the deck as Keeler beckoned to him with one arm while the other concentrated on keeping Abel on his feet. Keeler gave a quick thanks to Encke's assistant, smiling reassuringly at his troubled gaze. He steered Abel down the corridor with an arm around his shoulder and murmurs of nonsense at his ear, trying to calm the distraught young navigator before he sobbed himself sick. Keeler was good at this by now. Abel wasn't the only one to have had a complete breakdown when his flying partner-hell, his lover-had transferred out.

He managed to keep Abel on his feet until they neared his quarters, but then his hiccupping sobs turned to panicked gasps.

"I don't want to go in-in there alo-!" Abel started to hyperventilate, eyes wild and feet rooted at the threshold of his door.

Keeler cursed Cain silently in his head. It wasn't even 0900 and he had a full duty rooster; at least three meetings he absolutely couldn't break, and a debriefing in less than an hour with Cook. He hadn't slept, hadn't eaten, and didn't have time to babysit another one of his hysterical men.

"Can-can I stay with you?" Abel pleaded, his beautiful face blotchy and smeared with tears. His hands gripped Keeler's arm convulsively. "Please, Keeler, I'm- I'm—"

"Of course you can," Keeler smiled soothingly, and his heart almost broke at the way Abel's whole body sagged against him in relief. Slowly, Abel crying and Keeler steering him blindly down the corridor they backtracked to Keeler's room.

_Shit_, Keeler sighed in resignation. _Encke is going to kill me_.

* * *

Cain

The inside of the troop transport was dark and stifling, black-clad fighters jostling for seats along the walls that lined the ship. Cain found one near the back, passing Juno, pale and silent with fear, and Praxis, tears running down his face. Fucking pussies, Cain thought in disgust. He'd be damned if he was going to cry just because he had to leave-

A wave of misery engulfed him and he froze in the act of shoving his gear under his seat, feeling as though his chest was still being squeezed by Abel's crushing grip. Abel….He'd never see him again, likely, hell, he'd be lucky himself to be alive and in one piece by the end of the month. Abel had been a moment of innocent happiness in Cain's miserable life, and he was fucking lucky he'd ever had a brief taste of the way things Might Have Been…

Setting his jaw he shoved his duffel angrily under his seat and dropped himself heavily into it, fastening his safety harness around himself but feeling Abel still clinging to his arms. Smelling Abel's hair as he'd buried his face in his neck, last night when they'd fucked for the last time, tasting the sweetness of his mouth. There would be no softness where Cain and the rest of the twenty-odd fighters were going today. Abel had been a part of his life he'd never deserved in the first place. Yeah he'd been the luckiest fucker, for a blink of an eye, but it was over now.

He let his head drop back against the bulkhead with a sigh, hoping he could catch a nap before he had to change transports again at Starbase fourteen. Another fighter squeezed into the seat on his right and he turned away in annoyance then jerked his arm back with a snarl as the man laid a hand against his shoulder.

"Fuck off and give me a little space, Goddammit," he swore. The other fighter pulled off his helmet and Cain's jaw dropped.

"Were you going to leave without me Lubvonik?" Deimos asked him quietly, and smiled.

* * *

Encke

Twenty-five new men had shipped in today, roughly half of them rookie fighters sent to the _Sleipnir_ for their first tour of duty. Within five minutes of Bering's morning debriefing, Encke knew which ones would end up in the brig, in the medical bay, or be sent home in a box. When the Alliance had enacted conscription it was the beginning of one long, frustrating headache for those in command. Encke didn't simply have nasty, snarling men to whip into fighting material. He had nasty, snarling men who hadn't volunteered in the first place.

The war was a wheezing, gasping fish flopping on the banks of a dried up river. The river's bed had long emptied of anything powerful, or clean, or life sustaining. The debris left in its wake were ruined colonies and orphaned, dirty children; refugees crowded into detainment camps and stars littered with pieces of titanium and bone. Encke had been there from the beginning and it was likely he'd be there until the bitter end. Dead or alive, it really didn't matter to him anymore.

His cabin was dark when he stumbled inside bone weary and depressed after a miserable twelve hour shift. He smiled tiredly when he saw Keeler's thin form curled under the blankets of their bunk. After screaming all day at a group of sullen, unmotivated men, it was nice to have something sweet to come home to at night.

His hand activated the dimmer switch by the door and Keeler looked up at him with a sound of irritation.

"Turn that thing off," he snapped in a low whisper.

Encke stared at the second shape curled far too close to his lover. "The fuck is he doin' here?"

"Sleeping," Keeler retorted quietly, "and it's taken me half the day to get him to calm down so will you Please. Not. Wake. Him. Up." He turned his back on Encke and pulled the covers snug around Abel's bare shoulders.

Encke stood there and glared at the two blond heads that were currently occupying his pillow."Where'm I s'posed to sleep?"

"For God's sake, Encke, there's another bed," Keeler murmured wearily. "Or get in here with us, I don't care, just please shut up already."

His last few words died out to a sleep roughened whisper. Encke shook his head and rubbed his eyes, too tired to argue. He stripped off, sprawled out on the bunk across the room, and fell into a deep, troubled sleep.

* * *

Abel

He was warm and there were arms around him but the smell was all wrong, the planes of the chest under the thin cotton sleep shirt too slender against his cheek. He frowned, burrowing deeper into the warmth and comfort and sighing against Cain while listening to the thump, thump of his heart. It was the sound that always calmed him but for some reason that was off too. Even the smell of their room was different, no stale cigarette smoke just the overpowering scent of males in a small, confined space.

Slowly his eyes blinked open and he gazed into the dark, wondering why he was looking at Keeler's sleeping face instead of Cain's.

And then everything slammed back at him in a head-on collision of unbearable despair.

"Nuh-no!" He gasped, bolting upright in bed in a blind panic. Cain was gone, Cain had left on the transport ship today, Cain was gone forever and was never coming back-

For a heart stopping moment Abel was completely without direction. He didn't know where to go, how to think, what to do. Panic gripped him in a cold clammy embrace and he felt like he was going to be sick.

"Abel, Abel it's okay, lay back down, sweetheart, it's okay." A soothing voice, sweet as mother's milk was whispering in his ear. Keeler tried in vain to comfort him, just like he'd been doing over and over this whole, horrible day. Abel turned into his arms, burying his face in his hair as he sobbed. Keeler's gentle arms wrapped around him but he needed Cain, solid and strong and familiar.

The bed dipped and a heavy weight settled against Abel's back.

"Encke, get out—"

"Shut up goddamit," Encke snapped, voice rough with fatigue and Abel didn't know if he was barking at himself or Keeler. A heavy forearm laid firmly across his waist, tugging him back against a broad chest, the overpowering scent of fighter surrounding him.

"Abel," Encke said gruffly, head settling on Abel's tear soaked pillow. "You wake us up one more goddamn time, I'm gonna kick your sorry ass out the door, so shut the fuck up so we can all go to sleep, son."

Keeler yanked the covers back angrily but Abel felt Encke's hand reach out and snag his wrist before he could move. "Get your skinny ass back in this bed, baby-"

"Let me take a piss at least," Keeler huffed, stomping to the head.

Then it was just Abel in the bed with Encke, as if the day couldn't get any worse. "I'll go," he sniffled, trying to extricate himself from Encke's grip but it was like trying to lift a tree trunk off his chest. Encke just made an irritated, sleepy noise and spooned him tighter.

"Ain't goin' nowhere," he mumbled against Abel's hair. "Ain't gonna listen to him bitchin' 'bout it when he comes back, if you're gone."

Abel closed his eyes, too miserable to argue. He was asleep when Keeler came back to bed and curled around them both five minutes later. This time at least, he didn't dream.

* * *

Cain

Deimos slept like he always did when they were together, fingers of his right hand interlaced with Cain's left. His head drooped against Cain's shoulder and Cain rested his own against Deimos' head, breathing in the familiar scent of his hair. The guilty relief he felt at having Deimos with him was almost too good to be true.

But Deimos had always been there when Cain needed him, back when they were kids on the shit hole that was Colony Five, all through basic and then the first starbase they'd been assigned to as rookie fighters. His Myshonok, content with whatever scraps of affection Cain could spare him even when Abel had left nothing of Cain to share.

The pain that lanced through him was still sharp but at least he could bear it now. Keeler would take care of Abel; Cain knew that without a doubt. He hoped too that when Encke's orders to transfer out eventually came, Abel would have Keeler finally, all to himself. They would have a happy life together after the war and raise a bunch of lab engineered, towheaded kids in a big, airy house on earth. Abel deserved Keeler. He had never deserved anything Cain had given him.

Maybe, when they got back to earth, Abel could finally have the scar repaired, too.

* * *

Keeler

They stayed like that for about a week, an uncomfortable threesome at night with Abel squeezed into their already narrow bed. He refused to return to the quarters he and Cain had shared while he waited for a new fighter to be assigned to him. Keeler couldn't bear the thought of him, alone and crying himself to sleep so he cajoled and wheedled until Encke finally gave in and said Abel could stay.

"Fuck, baby, it's not like the little gypsy _died_," Encke grumbled.

"As far as Abel's concerned," Keeler retorted, "he did."

But Abel couldn't sleep without someone next to him, and ironically, that someone had to be another fighter. He was too embarrassed to sleep with Encke without Keeler in the bed as well, and Keeler couldn't sleep jammed together like a trio of human sardines.

It didn't help that Encke lay spooned up to Abel's back and woke up hard each morning. Abel snuggled into Keeler's front at night, sniffling against his neck with his palm lying warm across his belly. Keeler knew Abel wasn't being a tease on purpose, that he was desperately seeking comfort the only way he knew how. He loved Abel and his heart broke for him, but it was time for him to go.

He'd begged Encke to assign Abel someone gentle for his new fighter. So Encke gave him a nineteen year old boy Task named Aries, tall and smiling and nothing like Cain. He was soft spoken and followed Abel around like a puppy until Abel came to Keeler and begged for a replacement.

"I can't fly with him," Abel had confessed when they were working in the hangar deck, re-fitting the _Scythe_ with a new diagnostics array. "He's not a fighter, Keeler; he doesn't belong in the gunner's seat. He should be a navigator instead."

Keeler smiled, seeing the strain in Abel's big brown eyes. "I'll talk to Encke," he promised, and within a week, Abel had another partner to train. And then a week later, a third.

The last was Ander, stocky and blunt-featured with mean, cold eyes. He sent Abel to the infirmary after their first night together, when Abel slapped his face for calling him 'Baby'. Abel had a black eye and three bruised ribs, and Keeler was apoplectic with rage.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" he screamed at Encke in the privacy of their quarters that night. "Giving him someone that makes Cain look like a choir boy!? Abel's not emotionally strong enough yet for-"

"Abel's not your problem," Encke said, voice hard, not backing down when Keeler's face darkened with fury. "He don't get to pick and chose who's gonna hold his hand for the rest of this tour! Stop treatin'him like a fuckin' baby, Keeler! He's gotta pull his weight in this like the rest of us, he ain't special-"

Keeler's rage boiled over before he could stop himself. Encke gasped and ducked as Keeler took a swing at him, catching his wrist and then swearing as he caught the other wrist too before Keeler's open palm could impact with his face.

"Don't you fuckin' hit me!" He shouted, squeezing Keeler's wrists and making him cry out in pain. "I oughta whoop your ass across this room for tryin' that! The fuck's wrong with you?!"

Keeler stared at him wild eyed and shaking and failing completely in his efforts not to cry. "Encke!" he bawled, crumpling and shaking but his lover shoved him back onto their bed.

"I'm fuckin' done bein' your punchin' bag, baby," Encke spat, grabbing his duffel and yanking open his locker with a metallic bang. "You can find yourself another fighter too while you're getting one for Precious or Princess or whatever the fuck-!"

"The-the orders came through today," Keeler cried, tears rolling hot down his face, and Encke froze, dropping his duffel to the floor in shock. For several long seconds, Keeler watched as his jaw clenched and unclenched, one strong brown hand gripping the door of his locker until his knuckles turned white. Keeler dragged a hand across his bloodshot eyes, dreading the next question that was going to come out of his lover's mouth.

"Where 'em I getting' sent, baby?" he asked quietly, hanging his head in defeat.

Keeler swallowed and turned away, unable to meet Encke's eyes. "Nowhere," he answered brokenly. "I am."

* * *

Praxis

Cold, it was too damn cold in the barracks where the fighters slept. The _Excelsior _was one of the new classes of fleet ships, a no-frills, ugly grey tank in space packed with twenty, one-man attack bombers and twenty fighters to fly them. It had come as a bit of a surprise; Praxis hadn't flown without a navigator in over three years but it all came back quickly after the first two or three skirmishes. It had to, or Praxis wouldn't be the one coming back at all.

Everything was dark, thickly armored bulkheads and corridors and there were depressingly few portals to look out at the stars. The ship had shields strong enough to protect a planet, powered at the expense of niceties like hot showers or hot food. There were only three lifts in the entire vessel and they were reserved for the command crew: Captain, First officer, and Lieutenant. Life aboard the _Sleipnir_ had been a spa vacation compared to this.

There were no private quarters; hell, there was no privacy, open showers and toilets and one big room full of hard bunks to sleep on. Only three others that had left the _Sleipnir _all those weeks ago were here with him: Juno, young and strong but still relatively green; sweet, quiet Deimos, and, unfortunately, Cain. The rest of the men came from bases and colonies on the remote edges of Alliance space. They were hard, blocky men with narrow glittering eyes and they spoke together in a hushed, guttural dialect Praxis gave them as wide a berth as possible in the confines of their cramped living space.

There was certainly no one here like Athos, he sighed, readying his bunk and kit for lights out. Thinking about his saucey smile and the way he curled around Praxis in his sleep made a dull ache settle in his chest. He remembered with a pang of loneliness their last night together.

"I wish I could go with you," Athos had said unhappily, his soft palms warm on Praxis cheek. "How long do you think you'll be gone, Praxie?"

"Athos," Praxis had answered, shaking his head with a bitter smile, "this is it. I'm not coming back. None of us are."

"Don't say that!" Athos pleaded, angry tears welling in his eyes. He grabbed a fistful of Praxis' shirt with his hands. "You'll come back, sweetie, I know you will!"

Praxis looked at him in wonder as tears spilled down his sharp cheekbones. Athos had never cried for him before. No one had.

"Maybe no one's ever loved you, you big dummy," Athos sniffed, and Praxis realized he must have spoken his thoughts aloud.

"Oh kitten, you don't love me," Praxis replied sadly. He took Athos' face in his too large hands, wiping his tears away. "We fuck, but that's—"

His words were cut off as Athos leaned up to place a soft kiss against his mouth. He pulled back and touched his forehead to Praxis', eyes closed in sorrow.

"Don't be an idiot," he whispered. "Of course I do."

* * *

Deimos

It was suffocating, cooped up like dogs in a kennel night after night when he itched to roam the twisting corridors, discovering all of the _Excelsior's_ secrets. Not happening here though, under the watchful eye of the Lieutenant. Everyone and everything had its price, though, and Deimos was always good at finding out just how high the cost would be.

It was thankfully cheap. The Lieutenant was eager, hands fisted in Deimos' hair as he knelt at his booted feet, sucking his thankfully small cock. It only took a flick of his tongue on the divot below the mushroomed head and he was spilling in Deimos' mouth with a breathy groan. Too much coffee gave his cum a bitter taste but Deimos still smiled up at him sweetly, and took the cigarettes he gave him back to Cain.

He was toying with the idea of letting the man have his ass, too, but didn't relish the thought of having an audience for that. There were barely any dark corners for a blowjob but nowhere concealing enough for a fuck, and he wasn't about to go to this brutal stranger's room. There wasn't anything else worth getting for it anyway, no drugs or alcohol or even anything decent to eat.

Still, it could be worse. He could have been back with the ground forces on Colony six, where poor Oberon and Porthos had gone. Deimos throat tightened when he thought of his lumbering roommate, remembering how Porthos had always been there to make him smile or just be a quiet, comforting presence in the night. The odds of ever seeing him again were almost zero.

Deimos paused while stowing his gear in the bunk above Juno's, looking at the battered deck of cards he hadn't been able to leave behind. He smiled to himself as his vision swam, fingering the bent edges and recalling how patient Porthos had been trying to teach him the differences between a straight and a flush in poker.

He jumped when something landed beside him on the bed.

"Hey," Praxis smiled across the narrow aisle, sitting cross legged on the bunk above Cain's, "quit stealing my socks you little thief."

Deimos smiled and lobbed the rolled up socks back at Praxis, laughing when his friend had to duck to avoid getting hit in the face.

"Good aim, Deimos," Praxis laughed, tossing the socks from hand to hand.

"Amazing, what you can do with two eyes," Cain's voice drifted up with his cigarette smoke from the bunk below.

Praxis made a face, but Deimos held his hands out expectantly, catching the socks with a grin when Praxis tossed them back. Cain let out a satisfying yelp when Deimos hit him square in the side of his head.

"You were right, dumbass," Praxis howled, while Deimos giggled and Juno snickered in glee. "Two eyes are better than one big mouth!"

* * *

Cain

Fuck, it was boring on the Excelsior. Sleep, get screamed at by the Lieutenant, fly out and kill stuff, fly back in and sleep again. Oh yeah, and eat, too.

"Fuck, this shit again?" Cain grumbled, eyeing the MRE packet the yeoman was passing out to all the men. "Meals Ready to Eat, my ass. More like Meals Ready to Excrete."

"I always thought it was Meals Refusing to Exit," Juno put in, rubbing his gut painfully. "I haven't taken a decent shit since they started us on this stuff."

"Ah, you're referring to Meals Requiring an Enema?" Praxis chimed in, and Cain laughed at Juno's red face.

"Meals Resulting in Explosions is more like it," Cain growled.

He ripped the packet open with his knife and dumped the contents out onto his bunk, Deimos sitting beside him. "Just what I always wanted; reconstituted electrolyte solution, protein paste and a protein bar hard as the Asshole's cock." He shook the packet and peered into it hopefully. "And no fucking M&M's, great."

"I have some," Deimos offered quietly in Russian.

"Thanks, Myshonok," Cain answered in kind, smiling at him and Deimos blushed in pleasure. Sprawled on his bunk across from them Juno made kissing noises and Cain glared at him.

"Wise up, lovebirds," the younger man chuckled. "Doesn't take a linguist to figure out you two are an item. I'd tone it down if I were you."

"I'd mind my own business," Cain snarled, but leaned away from Deimos just the same.

"Heads up," Deimos heard Praxis warn from the overhead bunk.

The four of them looked up warily as one of the stocky fighters approached. Up close, Cain could see his runty, stunted appearance was the classic after effect of the malnutrition suffered by kids growing up on the poorer colonies. He spoke some gibberish to Cain, gesturing vaguely towards where he and Deimos sat.

"I can't understand a word you just said, ugly," Cain replied sweetly, shrugging his shoulders with a smile. "But whatever the fuck you want, the answer's 'no'."

"He wants your blade," Juno said tightly. He had moved to a sitting position and had his keen eyes trained on the squat little bulldog that was still gesturing and talking with increasing agitation.

Cain's hands clenched into fists. "That's not what he wants," he growled, rising slowly. Deimos moved to stand too but Cain shoved him back with a hand on his shoulder. His black eyes never left the other man's face.

"Fuck off," he barked at the fighter, who had his greedy little eyes trained on Deimos.

"Bitch," the fighter spat, stepping forward with a menacing glare. Behind him Juno rose fluidly and then light as a cat Praxis slid down from the upper bunk to stand beside Cain. Cain prayed Deimos would have the sense to stay put, in case things went south fast.

Faced with three of them, all bigger than he was, the fighter gave a final guttural expletive and slunk back to his fellows across the room. Cain was relieved when none of them came to back him up.

Juno slipped back into his bunk after a wink from Cain, giving him a thumbs up and a nervous smile. Cain caught Praxis' arm before he climbed back up to his bunk.

"Fuck, as if we didn't have enough problems in this shithole," he muttered.

"Yeah I know; I've been watching that one eye up Deimos since we got here." Cain saw Praxis' hard gaze stare over his shoulder. Then he looked back at Cain. "Don't worry; I got your back on this one."

Cain opened his mouth to say he'd seen Praxis eye up Deimos too, but he thought better of it.  
Thanks," he said gruffly, and sat down again on his bunk.

"I can't take you anywhere, can I, Myshonok ?" Cain said to him in Russian. He glared stonily at him. "Quit being so fucking pretty, okay baby?"

Deimos managed a shaky smile. "I'll try, Lubvonik" he whispered. "I'll try."

* * *

Abel

"Me?" Abel said in disbelief, staring at Keeler's unhappy face. "I can't-"

"Yes, Abel, you can, and if I have to make it an order I will." He laid a hand on Abel's arm, giving it a squeeze." Please don't make me, Abel," he pleaded. "Just say yes. Encke's going to need someone when I leave and I want it to be you."

For a horrifying moment Abel thought Keeler was asking him to take his place as Encke's lover, and not simply his navigator. But then Keeler was walking around the ships in the Hangar deck, talking about the merits of the _Scythe_ versus the _Reliant_, and Abel banished the disturbing thought from his mind.

"It's your choice," Keeler was saying. "As the pilot it's important you have a ship you're familiar with, when you're flying into battle. The _Scythe _probably has better shields but the_ Reliant_ is marginally faster. Encke's says he doesn't care, that he can waste 'Terons from anything, as long as you can fly it."

Keeler turned to him expectantly, unconsciously resting one fine-fingered hand on his Starfighter in a protective gesture.

"Then I'd rather stick with the _Reliant_, if that's alright," Abel answered, and saw Keeler's shoulders sag a little in relief. "I can probably keep us both alive longer if I'm flying a ship I already know."

Keeler held his gaze and Abel saw despair cloud his beautiful eyes. He looked as heartbroken as Abel felt, leaving behind his lover and friends and everything he'd worked for on the _Sleipnir_ for almost a year. Abel took a step toward him, where he stood under the wing of the ship, and spoke softly.

"I'm going to miss you so much," he mumbled, trying to sound braver than he felt.

Keeler nodded, letting his hand slip off the ship to reach towards Abel. After a moment's hesitation Abel reached out too and Keeler smiled, squeezing his hand with surprising strength.

Keeler pretty blue eyes brimmed with tears. "I'm going to miss you so much too; you have no idea…."

He tugged on Abel's arm then, pulling him close. "Will you do something for me?" Keeler whispered, reaching up to stroke Abel's cheek, and Abel felt his body heat, unbidden. "Will you kiss me goodbye?"

"I—"Abel gulped.

"Please," Keeler begged, and then they were both moving toward each other and Keeler was in his arms.

It started slow and chaste, just a press of lips with Keeler's hands gently stroking his neck, his hair. When Keeler sighed, and started to pull away Abel couldn't bear the thought of being left cold and alone again. He suddenly leaned forward, pressing Keeler's body between his own and the ship and pushed his tongue in Keeler's mouth. The first taste set his body on fire and when Keeler moaned and kissed him back, Abel clutched at him in need. It had been weeks since he'd touched anyone and with a whimper he wrapped his arms around Keeler's slim waist and tugged their hips together.

With a gasp Keeler broke away, face flushed and mouth swollen "Abel…" he panted, "A-Abel, wait—"

"Oh!" Abel gasped, scarlet with arousal and embarrassment. "Oh God I'm sorry; I-I didn't mean to—"

"Can we go to your quarters?" Keeler interrupted urgently, and Abel stared at him in shock.

Abel stared at him, gulping, "What about-?"

Keeler shook his head slowly. "No Abel, this is for you, and me. Just tell me if you want me, or not."

_**If **__you want me? _ Since he'd first laid eyes on Keeler it had always been "Yes," he whispered "you know I do."

Keeler smiled quickly and kissed him again. "Let's go."

* * *

Keeler

It was wrong; he was using Abel when his emotions were already all over the map. He was betraying Encke's trust and he was fraternizing with a junior officer. And Keeler didn't fucking care.

Tomorrow morning The Alliance was going to take everything away from him and make him start over to serve their whims. That was the job he'd signed up for, the job he'd give a 110% to until it killed him. There were far more important things in the galaxy, then one Lieutenant's happiness. But for tonight, screw the Alliance and everyone else. Keeler was taking what he wanted, and right now, he wanted Abel.

He had no idea how they managed to make it to Abel's quarters without being seen, hands all over each other in the lift and at every bend in the corridor. Abel fumbled the door code three times before he finally got them inside, hands working to get them both out of their clothes as fast as possible. Keeler noted briefly that Abel had returned the mattresses Cain had pushed together back on their bunks, and then Keeler was being pushed down, Abel's body on top of his.

"Mmmm," he moaned, eyes closed in pleasure as Abel's slim body moved restlessly against his. His back was smooth as silk under Keeler's roaming hands and his stiff cock hot against Keeler's thigh. Keeler panted and placed his hands on Abel's shoulders to stop his frantic kissing, and asked, "Tell me what you want, Abel, I'll do whatever you want to do."

Abel stared down at him, brown eyes filled with adoration and Keeler pushed back a pang of guilt. "I," he panted shakily, "I don't—?" He bit his lip and looked so uncertain that Keeler came to his rescue with a soft kiss and a reassuring smile.

"It's alright, this is alright, do you want to just-?"

"Yes, yes," Abel moaned, settling between Keeler's spread thighs and rocking against him. "Please, Keeler, can I-?"

"Yes, sweetheart," Keeler smiled, kissing his face, his petal soft eyelids and blushing cheeks. "Keep doing that Abel; ohhh, that's so nice…!"

Abel kissed him again, harder this time and Keeler lay back and let him lead, writhing in pleasure with every touch of Abel's restless hands. What Abel lacked in experience he more than made up for in sheer passion and soon his frantic hips had Keeler at the brink of orgasm. He tipped his head back with a cry of ecstasy and Abel pressed his mouth to his throat, open and moist Keeler lost control, gushing hot between them. Abel stiffened and a shudder racked his body as he came, gasping, a moment later.

They lay there sweaty and sated and Keeler sighed as Abel relaxed atop him. He could have stayed that way forever, Abel's body deliciously warm draped over his, his hands running up and down his smooth back. It was Abel, though, who stirred first.

"Thank you," he whispered simply, kissing Keeler tenderly. "Thank you for everything, Keeler. I'll try to take care of things, until you come back."

Keeler smiled up at his innocent face, so young, though they were actually the same age. "I know you will, Abel," he smiled, his heart breaking as he pictured him in Encke's arms. "Thank you, too."

* * *

Encke

Keeler had been crying, again; fuck that's all he seemed to do anymore. He crossed the room as Encke closed the door to their quarters and buried himself in Encke's embrace, sobbing. Encke pressed kisses of forgiveness to his soft hair, caressing him and smelling Abel all over him. He'd known this was coming, and he'd already made peace with it.

Keeler looked up at him pleading and Encke kissed him gently, standing there with the man he loved more than life itself for probably the last time. One kiss blended into the next until Keeler stopped crying and Encke sighed in relief. In tears was not how he wanted to remember Keeler, not now. There would be enough of that tomorrow for both of them.

And so he took his time, undressing Keeler like the precious gift that he was, pressing his mouth to the faint bruises left against his pale neck by someone else's mouth. He backed Keeler to their bed and laid him down; smiling at his beautiful male body as he quickly shed his own clothes. Then he joined his lover on their bed, embraced by the circle of his arms, covering his body with his own.

"Encke, I love you," Keeler told him over and over as Encke thrust into his body. For whatever else he might have done, Encke knew Keeler hadn't given his heart to anyone but him.

"I love you Keeler, my sweet baby," Encke murmured back. "I love you so damn much."

Then the only things left to say were with sighs and hands and drugging kisses that brought them both to a shuddering peak. Encke wiped them off with his discarded shirt and settled back against Keeler with a sigh, closing his eyes as Keeler's hands stroked patterns across his scalp. For a long time they lay together quietly, just holding each other, and then Keeler took Encke's face in his hands.

"There are some things I want you to know," he said quietly. "If we survive this war I will find you, no matter where you are. I want to spend my life with you, Encke, if you want to spend it with me. I don't care where it is, earth or the colonies, as long as we are together."

Encke's heart squeezed, and his mouth turned up in a smile. "Baby, are you proposing?" he laughed softly.

Keeler gave him a look. "The correct answer is yes, you big doofus."

"Well then, since you put it so nicely and all…." Keeler threatened to pinch his butt and Encke laughed. "Yes baby, there ain't nobody for this boy but you. You want me forever, I'm all yours."

Keeler's face broke into a radiant smile. Quietly, he told Encke his true name, his date and place of birth, and his mother and father's names.

"What if they don't like me?" Encke asked, fingers playing absently with a strand of Keeler's hair.

"Sweetheart, they've known I prefered men since I was twelve. They're going to love you."

Encke leaned on an elbow, eyebrow raised. "Uh huh. I'm a colonial and I kill aliens for a living. And, the only family I have left is my Grandmother on my mama's side, and she doesn't like Earth borns."

"She'll love me," Keeler assured him with a confident smile. "Everyone does."

Encked laughed and Keeler giggled because yeah, he was right, everyone did love Keeler. So he told Keeler his name too, Keeler listening raptly as he talked about his life growing up on the colonies and what it was like the first time he'd visited earth, and seen trees and flowers and snow.

Then it was late, and they moved to the head to wash for the night, and then Keeler turned to Encke with a sigh.

"Let's get this over with," he said, chin up bravely and a pair of scissors in his hand.

Encke took the scissors and hesitated, watching Keeler pull his loose hair into a high pony tail and quickly braid it, tying the end with a small rubber band.

"Baby, you sure you wanna do this?" Encke asked doubtfully, standing there looking at the beautiful braid that hung to the middle of Keeler's back.

"It's just hair, Encke," Keeler said briskly, sitting on the toilet seat with his back to him. Encke couldn't miss the nervous tremor in his voice. "It'll grow back. I'm not going to that battle cruiser looking like a girl."

"More like a walkin' conjugal visit," Encke mumbled, and with a deep breath, he quickly cut off his lover's beautiful hair. Keeler took the braid and laid it across his lap without looking at it, handing Encke his razor. Encke ran it across Keeler's scalp with a practiced hand, white blond locks falling around them like snow. When he finished, Keeler had a close razor cut, not completely buzzed but not long enough to be loose, either. Keeler inspected himself in the mirror while running his hand over his hair in a mixture of relief and shock.

"That was fast," he gulped, wide eyed and a little breathless. His eyes met Encke's in the mirror. "Is it okay? Does it make me look butch enough?"

Encke threw his head back and burst out laughing. "Hell no, baby; not with those damn big baby-blues and that sexy little mouth. You couldn't be butch if you tried, so quit tryin'"

Keeler made a face, but giggled and blushed when Encke's arms circled his waist from behind. "You look damn sexy," he growled, kissing his head. "Makes me wanna fuck you all over again."

Keeler tipped his head back in annoyance. "Then what the hell are you standing there for? The bed's in the other room, so get me in it for heaven's sake."

"Yeah, I'm gonna miss that sweet attitude of yours most I think."

"Shut up and fuck me, soldier."

"Yes _Sir_!"

* * *

Praxis

They flew out more times than Praxis could count, in the little tin cans with wings and an air bubble to breathe in. The tiny but powerful engine sang through his body with a subtle thrum that he felt for hours after he'd climbed out of the cockpit. Praxis was shocked when it made him hard the first few times; chalking it up to missing the near constant sex he'd shared with Athos. Having those huge guns to fire a seemingly endless round of torpedoes was a rush too, as well as the effortless way the ship moved with the speed and agility of a cheetah.

Praxis had never seen a cheetah, of course; they'd been extinct for hundreds of years. Still, the thought of being that sleek and graceful had always held a secret appeal.

There wasn't much to do in between skirmishes but sleep, or play cards, or jerk off after lights out. Command gave them no information beyond the daily routine, but Praxis understood why. They were here, until they won the war, or died. And the way things looked, winning was about as likely as that cheetah walking into the barracks and curling up on Praxis' bed.

The first casualty came three weeks after they'd left the _Sleipnir_.

"Did you guys hear?" Juno asked over the rush of the shower heads. "Two guys didn't make it back today."

"Hopefully that ugly fuck that was looking at your ass the other day was one of 'em," Cain laughed. He tipped his head back and scrubbed his black hair briskly under the tepid spray, shivering slightly. He'd insisted they all shower together for protection and Praxis had to admit he'd been right. They'd broken the ice with a few of their fellow fighters but for the ones that couldn't be trusted, safety in numbers was a must.

"No one's been looking at my ass but you," Juno grinned, and caught the soap left handed when Cain threw it at him.

"I'm out guys, my nuts are sucking up in my gut I'm so cold," Praxis said, shivering over to grab a towel and dry off.

"Juno, finish what you were telling us," Deimos said, soaping himself idly, which was the real reason Praxis made a hasty retreat. The way Deimos ran his hands over his lithe body was hypnotic. That, or Praxis was just desperately horny.

It didn't escape Praxis that Cain's dark eyes were traveling over Deimos hungrily too, or that Deimos slipped into Cain's bed nearly every night. The only person seemingly unaffected was Juno who had a wife and baby daughter back home, and was completely uninterested in men. Cain had been right with his offhand remark, that Juno, despite the scar that cleaved the side of his handsome face, was being watched as much as Deimos was. Praxis shook his head ruefully. Sometimes it paid to be the ugly one.

He half listened as Juno described what the yeoman had overheard the Lieutenant say what the First Officer had told him. A squadron of eight had gone out that morning but only six had returned, and the Command was livid. The bombers cost the Alliance a small fortune apiece, and were not nearly as replaceable as the men who flew them.

"Rumor has it," Juno went on, rinsing his shaggy brown hair, "We're getting some fresh pilots; and a new first officer too. Ours is already getting bumped up to Captain another ship."

Cain's dark head snapped up at that. "Fresh pilots from where?" he demanded, but Juno just shrugged. Cain turned to Deimos then and rattled off something in Russian, and Deimos nodded quickly with a tight smile.

"Fuck you two, that's fucking rude," Juno complained. "Why do you to always have to talk that crap in front of us so we don't know what you're sayin?" He stomped over to where Praxis was toweling off and Deimos bit his lip, worried.

"Ah don't sweat it, kid," Cain laughed. "I was just telling Deimos how much I liked looking at your ass!"

Juno muttered something under his breath and flipped Cain the bird. Deimos giggled and Praxis was surprised when Cain used the moment to catch his eye, nodding his head to the side slightly to indicate Praxis should wait. He idled while Cain lingered washing himself in the tepid spray, seemingly oblivious to the cold. It sent a shiver through him, looking at Cain's body, that wasn't entirely due to the temperature of the room. Fuck, he needed to get laid.

When Deimos and Juno wandered out, talking together quietly Cain locked eyes with Praxis and motioned him over. Fucking hell he'd just gotten dry and warm too, but for a private conversation the rush of the shower heads was the only choice they had. Damn Cain for always being right. Praxis sighed and chucked his towel, ducking back under the spray with a shiver.

"Look, Praxis," Cain started without preamble. "I wanna get off this scrap heap as much as the next guy, but there's a pretty good chance I won't. If anything happens to me-"

"Christ I already told you I got your back," Praxis said, annoyed and cold and wanting to get away from Cain's naked wet body as quickly as possible. "You dragged me all the way over here for you to read me your will?"

Cain scowled at him. Probably; it was hard to tell the difference between a scowl and a smile with the little bastard. "No, Cyclops, I dragged you all the way over here for this."

And then Cain grabbed him around the neck, yanked his head down, and did the last thing Praxis had ever expected him to do. His tongue was in Praxis' mouth before Praxis could think and then his slippery body was pressed against his own from head to toe. Furious and almost instantly hard Praxis jerked away but Cain snarled, teeth bared and pulled him back for another bruising kiss. His dick was as hot and hard as Praxis' was and with a jolt Praxis realized Cain was just as desperately horny as he was. Still—

"The fuck; what the fuck are you doing?!" Praxis sputtered, grabbing Cain by the hair and throwing him off. Cain impacted with the wall and glared hatefully at him.

"Are you really that stupid, Cyclops?! " Cain licked his lips with a feral grin, sliding his hand down his muscular torso to his crotch. "I can get you a book—"

With a growl Praxis was on him, grabbing him and spinning him to the wall. He pressed his dick threateningly against Cain's ass but instead of spitting with fury Cain pushed back against him like a whore.

"This is the part," Cain panted, hands reaching behind him to grab Praxis' ass, "where tab A goes into slot B—"

"So why the fuck," Praxis growled, one foot shoving Cain's legs brutally apart, "isn't Deimos standing where_**you**_ are—"

He lined the head of his dick up with Cain's hole and started to push, wrenching a satisfying grunt of pain from Cain's mouth as Praxis breached him.

"-And _**you **_standing where I am—"

"AH! Fuck; you gonna talk like a fuckin' girl all the way through it?!" Cain gasped, pushing back to impale himself on Praxis' dick, and fuck, Praxis knew even with the water to wet him up that had to hurt.

Praxis grit his teeth against the sudden clenching of his balls, holding Cain's hips still when he tried to fuck back against him. "Shit! Not so fast goddammit!"

Cain gave a dirty laugh and Praxis felt his insides give way and sweet Jesus; it took every ounce of his control to not blow his wad like a teenager right then and there. " 'S'matter _Praxie_," Cain cooed in a mocking imitation of Atho's voice, "miss your little slut too much?"

He braced his hands against the wall as Praxis started to pound into him, almost lifting him off his toes with every snap of his hips. "If—unh!—if your dick starts to ge-get soft," Cain was half laughing in between groans and squeezing himself around Praxis' cock, "just pretend I'm the little—mmmnnh!—bitch you left behind!"

He yelped when Praxis brought a hand down on his ass, leaving a satisfying red palm print in its wake.

"Don't worry, 'Princess'," Praxis panted, grinning evily at Cain's furious snarl, "your sweet pussy's enough to keep—ngh!—me going for –for-!"

He gasped and yanked Cain's back against his chest in a crushing embrace as he started to come, groaning and sinking his teeth into the rock hard muscle of Cain's shoulder. Cain pulled one of his hands free from the wall and started jerking himself off frantically, with his head flung back and a desperate whine rising behind his clenched teeth. When Praxis slid his hand between Cain's legs and fondled his tightly drawn up balls, Cain howled and ejaculated all over the wall. Praxis quickly yanked his head back and buried his tongue in his mouth, swallowing his cries before anyone could come in and catch them.

"What the fuck," Praxis panted, pulling out and pushing Cain none too gently away, "was that all about, you goddamn crazy gypsy?!"

He stood there shaky and pissed off and thoroughly 'fucked out', as Athos once called him. Cain looked hatefully up at him with a dizzy, sated smirk.

"I was horny?" he panted, and laughed when Praxis snarled and stomped away.

"Fucking little _asshole_!" Praxis toweled himself off for the second time. "Ride somebody else's dick next time you need to get your rocks off!"

"Oh 'Boo Hoo'," Cain said, rolling his eyes. He sauntered over to Praxis, dick still half hard and his body teasingly naked. Praxis tried to drag his eyes off his dark nipples when Cain gazed up at him.

"I don't like being in anyone's debt," Cain said, unsmiling. "You gotta promise me you'll watch out for Deimos if I don't make it back one of these times."

"Fuck you you little cocksucking_ prick_," Praxis hissed in his face. "Like you have to give me your ass for me to watch out for a friend?! You fucking know I'd have done that anyway!"

Cain grabbed Praxis by the arm when he turned angrily away. "What can I say?" he shrugged. "I was bored, and you've got a big dick." He pressed his mouth against Praxis' again, a firm sensual thrust of his tongue that left Praxis helplessly moaning. "Be a good boy and maybe next time, I'll suck it for you."

He winked and pulled away, towel over his shoulder as he sauntered back into the barracks, leaving Praxis to stand there and wonder who had just used who.

* * *

Abel

It came as a relief to Abel when his assignment as Encke's navigator didn't extend to him being Lead Navigator too. Encke was now a full commander, in charge of training and assignment of personnel and all manner of headaches that left him surly and unapproachable. Abel did his best to stay out of Encke's way, spending his time over the next month overseeing upgrades to the Starfighters and whatever else Cook asked him to do. There wasn't time to be lonely; each day full of briefings and flying, sometimes with Encke but more often with a variety of new fighters that needed further training. Sometimes he was lucky enough to catch lunch and the latest gossip with Puck or Athos.

Anders had been assigned to be Athos new fighter, after he was released from the brig for assaulting Abel. It took only a few days for Athos to have the cocksure younger man eating out of his hand, which was enough poetic justice to satisfy Abel. Aries was assigned to Puck and while Abel was certain he hadn't taken Oberon's place as Puck's lover, the two suited each other extremely well.

Which left Abel missing Cain with a dull ache that refused to fade, and Deimos too; but Keeler most of all. Keeler had been the buffer between Abel and Encke and with surprise, Abel realized he didn't really know Encke at all. They shared a room but nothing else, not a bed certainly but also very little conversation. Abel found with a pang he'd been lying to himself, when he laid awake at night, listening to the thrum of the ships engines, or Encke tossing restlessly in his sleep. There was plenty of time to feel lonely.

For both of them.

One night he dreamed of Cain. They were flying through the stars together, young and strong and Cain was laughing saying, nothing can stop us now, Baby, just wait and see! But when they landed, Abel got out of the _Reliant _and Cain wasn't there. And then he remembered Cain had gone, and left him behind, and he woke up with the sheets tangled around his body, crying.

No that wasn't right; he wasn't crying but someone else was. In the darkness he could see Encke, seated on the edge of his bunk clad in t-shirt and shorts. He had his head in his hands and his huge shoulders shook with silent weeping. Abel felt a flush of embarrassment and turned quietly away, trying to afford the normally stoic man some privacy in his moment of grief.

"Job," he heard Encke sob brokenly, "please Job, please…."

Abel squeezed his eyes shut and pretended he hadn't heard. _Coward_, his mind chided him. He was there for _you_ when you were falling apart.

_But that was for Keeler,_ he reasoned. Encke doesn't really give a damn about me, Abel thought, wishing Encke would just lie down and go to sleep. Abel was painfully aware how poor a substitute he was for the dynamic, beautiful Keeler. Maybe Encke wouldn't want Abel's awkward attempts at comfort anyway.

_Encke's going to need someone when I leave, and I want it to be you. _Abel set his jaw and climbed out of bed, treading hesitantly on bare fee to sit beside Encke. When he didn't tell Abel to go away, Abel slowly laid a hand on Encke's back, rubbing it like he did for Cain when he was tense or couldn't sleep. Encke didn't acknowledge him or shrug him off either so Abel sat there, quiet and uncomfortable until the sobs turned to quiet sniffles.

"I'm sorry for wakin' you up, baby," Encke said thickly, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. He drew in a long shuddering breath and turned his hand out and Abel clasped it in a reassuring squeeze.

"Don't worry," Abel said quietly. "I wasn't going to kick your sorry ass out the door." Encke looked up in surprise and Abel gave him a lopsided smile.

"Hm. Maybe you oughta." Encke raised a hand to cup Abel's cheek and Abel was shocked to feel it cover the whole side of his face. "You alright, ain'tcha baby?" he said with a sad smile. "Keeler did okay by me for once, leavin' you with me." He sighed tiredly and let his hand fall warm on Abel's knee. "I'll be okay, baby. You better get back to your own bed, before I go and do somethin' stupid."

But Abel didn't move, and after a pause, Encke looked at him, face unreadable.

"Get back to your own bed, son," Encke said tightly.

"No." The word was out of his mouth without him thinking, and Abel saw a flash of anger light Encke's eyes. "I can't."

"You damn well can," Encke retorted, shoulders set and tense with the look that always scared everyone…Except Abel was done being scared.

"I can't, Encke," Abel repeated softly. "You still have your hand on my leg."

Encke froze, staring at him for a long time in the darkness but Abel didn't flinch away.

"Last chance, baby," Encke murmured. His hand hadn't moved.

So Abel did. He rose, and saw the instant hurt cross Encke's face before he drew his soldier's mask back in place. It was what Abel had been waiting for, and he carefully straddled Encke's lap, knees on either side of his thighs, settling his weight carefully and placing his hands on Encke's shoulders.

He swallowed, uncertain, and said, "I'm not Keeler, and I never will be. I don't want to be. You have to know, Encke, before anything else happens, that before Keeler left—"

"I know about that already, known it for a long time," Encke said, laying his palms on Abel's thighs. The touch made Abel shiver, and he looked at the muscular fighter nervously. "Are you going to hit me, or anything?"

Encke cocked an eyebrow. "You want me to?"

"No," Abel said quickly.

"Good. That ain't my favorite thing to do."

Abel swallowed. "Then what is?" he whispered, and Encke pulled him forward, and kissed him.

His mouth was lush and sensual and his tongue pushed it's way past Abel's lips without waiting for permission. One hand snaked up into Abel's hair, fisting it with a hint of latent power, the other slid down inside Abel's underwear, over the curve of his ass. Abel gasped into Encke's mouth as that hand started to squeeze and then he cried out as one thick finger teased the crack of his ass.

"Same thing you like, apparently," Encke chuckled. He tugged Abel forward until their bodies were flush and pushed up against Abel's groin, and Abel wondered how long he'd been sitting beside him, hard. _Probably as long as I've been too_.

"This doesn't," Abel asked breathing a little faster as Encke pulled his t-shirt off and had him rise up on his knees. "This doesn't mean we; I mean, after this, we're not going to—?"

"God I hope not," Encke growled against his chest. "Stop thinkin' so much, Baby; I got this one."

"O-okay," Abel breathed, keening a little as Encke's warm mouth worked over his chest. When he got to his nipples, suckling with his lips and tongue Abel cried out and squirmed but Encke had him in an iron grip, arms around his back and hands kneeding his ass.

"Don't-oh!-E-Encke, mmm! Please please –!" Abel was shaking as that tongue continued to torment him, first one nipple and then the other. "Nnnh! You'll make me come too fast!"

Encke looked up at him with huge eyes. "Yeah? Damn that's hot."

He laughed low and husky and Abel laid his hands on his shoulders, caressing the strong arms that he'd always thought were incredibly sexy. "Let me make you feel good too, please?"

"Baby we are way past 'good'" Encke smiled and pressed his lips to Abel's chest, trailing kisses down the center of his torso. "You wanna know how good you're makin' me feel, sit down on my lap again an' you'll find out quick."

Abel bit his lip at the thought of how big his cock must be. It scared him just a little. "Do you want to, um…?" He asked, trembling. Maybe he should have gone back to bed in the first place.

"What this boy wants is to lay you out," Encke said, pulling down Abel's shorts and then laying him on his back on Encke's bunk, "so I can kiss you everywhere."

"That sounds nice," Abel whispered, closing his eyes as Encke's large hands undressed him like a child. It _was_ nice, too, laying there warm and desired as Encke's mouth pressed kisses all over his torso, tongue teasing his belly button and making him cry out in pleasure. His breath ghosted warm over Abel's pubic hair and he parted Abel's legs, face moving lower to kiss and lick the inside of his thighs.

"You are beautiful, Abel , so nice and sweet. Mmm," Encke moved lower, mouth ticklish on Abel's calf. He lifted Abel's foot to his mouth, kissing and licking the sensitive sole.

"Oh no no nooo!" Abel begged as Encke's hot wet mouth engulfed his big toe, sucking up and down and making him arch his back in ecstasy. "Oh God please—nnnnh! Oh don't stop! Oh please, no more, I'm gonna come-!"!"

Encke released his foot and quickly leaned down to take Abel's leaking cock in his mouth. He sucked up and down, wet and hot and then Abel was twisting and crying out and spilling in his mouth. Encke groaned and swallowed him until he lay boneless and spent, then fumbled his shorts down and laid beside Abel hard and shaking with need.

"Kiss me baby," Encke panted, urging Abel's hand down to his cock. "Kiss me while you use those pretty hands."

Abel moaned as Encke leaned over him and kissed him deeply, the taste of his own come giving him a thrill of wicked pleasure. His hand tugged Encke tight and fast, his other fingers brushing across Encke's dark brown nipples and then Encke was gasping and spilling hot all over his hand.

"Unh," Encke panted, resting his sweaty forehead against Abel's hair. "Damn I needed that." He grinned down at Abel and kissed him gently. "Kinda made a mess, though."

"That's okay," Abel smiled, petting his face. "Tonight, you can sleep with me."

* * *

Keeler

Captain Benjamin had been Keeler's flight instructor at the academy. He was tall and dark with a deep tenor that made Keeler feel like he was a seventeen year old virgin, all over again. In truth the man looked like an older version of Encke, and Keeler smiled. He was looking forward to them growing old together, if he ended up as distinguished and sexy as his former teacher.

"Welcome aboard the _Excelsior_, Commander Keeler," The Captain said, extending his hand and Keeler shook it warmly. "How long has it been since you were my student?"

"Almost ten years, sir," Keeler smiled, pleased his former mentor remembered him. He shouldered his gear as he stepped off the transport ship, following the Captain as he led him to his new quarters.

"You're looking fit," the older man said with a raised eyebrow. "I suppose you're spoken for already?"

"Yes sir," Keeler flushed with a pang of homesickness. When had the _Sleipnir_ become his home? he thought fleetingly? "My partner is a Commander on the _Sleipnir_."

"Ah, the ship I just stole you from? I'm sorry," Benjamin sighed. "Well, too bad for me, I have a son and daughter your age by now, neither married, and I'm getting rather impatient for a grandchild." He paused in front of a small cabin, and gave Keeler the keycode. He smiled kindly at Keeler, waiting for him to enter what could very well be his home for the remainder of his tour of duty. "I would have been proud to introduce you to either one of them."

To his horror Keeler suddenly felt tears fill his eyes. He blinked, hard, but the Captain had discretely turned away and was pointing out the amenities he'd enjoy as First Officer.

"It's not much, but you have a private shower and head." He turned back and seemed satisfied that Keeler had gotten his emotions under control. "Now I expect you're tired, so I'll see you tomorrow at 0800. Lieutenant Stone will be by in a few hours to give you a tour of the ship."

Keeler swallowed and thanked him, and as he stepped past him Benjamin turned and looked at him quizzically. "I seem to recall you wore your hair long, didn't you, Commander?"

Keeler smiled away a stab of misery, wondering if Encke still kept his braid tucked inside his locker. "Yes sir," he replied wistfully, "and hopefully, I will again."

The room was Spartan but at least it was all his own. He stowed his gear inside his small locker and set his tablet on the narrow cabinet that would serve as table, dresser and desk. After he was satisfied he'd seen all his new room had to offer, he set out to explore the ship.

There was precious little to see, which suited him fine as it would be easier to avoid getting lost. He could tell when he'd reached the barracks where the troops were housed easily enough. Someone inside appeared to be screaming at the top of his lungs. Keeler stepped inside the room unheard over the din, watching a tall, thick necked man with a bristle cut and a red face dress down a group of about twenty miserable looking fighters.

"—Stupidest, useless little _Bitches_ I ever had the misfortune to command! Every last one of you can drop and give me fifty-!"

As a body, the men dropped to the classic push-up punishment position, though it was clear by their uniforms and exhausted faces they'd just returned from battle. Several had injuries, and all looked strained and degraded. Keeler's sharp eyes scanned the group and found the four he was looking for almost immediately. Poor Juno was bleeding from a gashed lip and Praxis had a white-faced grimace that spoke eloquently of bruised ribs.

Setting his jaw he strode into the room. "As you were!" he called sharply and the men rose again to their feet, standing at rigid attention and looking confused.

Lieuteneant Stone-Keeler had already seen the crew manifest and knew the detestable man on sight-whipped his head around and his face went purple with rage. He crossed the room between them in three strides and thrust his ugly face a scant few inches from Keeler.

"Who the fuck are you, you little blond cunt?!" he barked, and Keeler counted one, two, three veins threatening to burst out of his sweaty forehead. "Our new 'First Officer'?! Well you can march your pansy ass back up to the bridge and suck the Captain's dick, you little bitch! I'M in command down here, where the men are! So unless you plan to spread 'em for us, girlie," he leered, eyeing Keeler's slender body, "get back to your fuckin' room, and get your pussy nice and clean for me and maybe, if you're lucky, I'll be back to fuck you later."

He turned his back on Keeler in dismissal and opened his mouth to shout at the men again, and Keeler cleared his throat. If possible, Stone's face was an even darker shade of purple when he swung back around, fists clenched at his sides.

"Such a generous offer, Lieutenant, but my pussy is perfectly clean right now, and I'd rather not wait. I'd be most interested to see what you have to offer." His blue eyes flicked to the enraged man's crotch, and back up to his face again. "Drop your pants, please."

Stone gaped at him in shock. Evidently no one had ever stood up to him before. The room had gone deadly silent. Keeler smiled nastily. This was going to be fun.

"You want to see my dick, you little slut?" Stone leered. "Get over here and get my zipper open. With your teeth."

Keeler gave a little chuckle. "I'm sorry, I haven't made myself clear, Lieutenant,' he said quietly, and behind him he saw Cain and Praxis wince. "This is not a debate. You have five seconds to drop your pants or—"

Stone launched himself in a blind fury and Keeler used the man's own momentum to flip him on his back. He lay there, stunned for a few seconds and Keeler strode over to him and quickly placed his booted foot over the man's crotch.

"I wouldn't," he warned, increasing the pressure marginally when Stone started to grab his leg. "Unless you'd prefer to piss through a tube the rest of your life? Now, perhaps you can explain to me why you have these men doing push-ups instead of tending to those who are injured?"

Stone opened his mouth to retort and Keeler smiled, leaning over to rest his weight on his knee. The man pinned beneath him let out a strangled sound of pain as Keeler felt one of his balls squeeze under his heel.

"Take your time, Lieutenant," Keeler smiled. "I'm not due to suck the Captain's dick for several more hours." He leaned a fraction closer and Stone turned a gratifying shade of grey. "We've got all night."

* * *

"Wow," Juno kept saying over and over, staring at Keeler in awe. "You must have the biggest pair in the whole f-ing fleet, sir."

Keeler sighed, sitting crosslegged on the floor between Juno's and Cain's bunks, and looked at his cards in disgust. "Thanks, Juno, but I'm probably the biggest idiot, too. Not here five minutes, and I've already made an enemy." He threw his cards down and shook his head. "See? I can't even beat Deimos at poker, and he doesn't even know how to play."

"Probably because he's been staring at your head the past half hour," Cain said under his breath, and Deimos blushed. Cain leaned back against the bunk and gestured with his cigarette vaguely. "I mean what the fuck? Sir?"

Keeler sighed, scrubbing his hand across his head. "Well it seemed like a good idea at the time," he said forlornly. 'I was hoping it would make me look tough…..Doesn't matter anyway, once Stone presses charges I'll be lucky to be cleaning latrines in the Alliance, let alone have a commision."

He looked up startled when his former shipmates started to laugh.

"You really think no-neck's gonna fess up about _that _little ass-kicking to the Capatin, sir?" Praxis asked gleefully.

"Yeah, he's probably begging for a transfer right now!" Juno giggled, and Keeler couldn't help but smile.

"You should probably sleep here, though," Deimos said quietly, and the others looked at him. "Stone won't hesitate to hurt you if he gets you alone, sir."

"Yeah, and nobody else down here's gonna fuck with you either, sir," Praxis said, sprawled close to Cain, Keeler was surprised to see. "You scared the piss outta half the guys, and the rest are just glad you got Stone off our backs." He shook his head and grinned. "That fucker makes me wish the Big Guy was here!"

Keeler looked at him and bit his lip, his vision blurring. "Me too, Praxis," he whispered thickly.

Cain threw Praxis a sour look. "Nice one, Cyclops," he glared, giving him a smack upside the head, and Praxis looked appropriately crestfallen.

"Sir?" Juno said hesitantly after an awkward pause, "Do you have any news for us? From the _Sleipnir_, I mean? I think we'd all like to know how our navies are doing."

Cain was looking at Keeler intently and Keeler squared himself for the conversation he knew he wouldn't be able to avoid. "Of course, Juno," he smiled. "But do me a favor, all of you; when it's just us, drop the 'sir', okay? I'm getting kind of sick of it already."

* * *

Cain

The little bomber whipped past the 'Teron ships, it's guns spewing white hot pulses of death as Cain's fists squeezed off round after round of torpedoes. He was one with the ship in ways he'd never been with the _Reliant _when it had been Abel at the helm. Here he was pilot and fighter in one, in complete control of doling out rage or mercy as he saw fit.

He was in no mood for mercy toady. Not after Keeler had told him who Abel's new fighter was, and who he'd be sharing a room with.

A flank of 'Teron's swept over him, all ugly paste-grey undersides like the belly of a dead snake, and he rolled his ship onto its back shooting a burning trail of destruction across their hulls. Four other bombers swarmed like vultures and picked away with white lances of flame and Cain leapt aside to dodge a 'Teron missile that had his death sentence written all over it. The bombers alone were no match for the enemy ships but as a unit they were fast and effective at wearing the vessels slowly down, weakening shields for a final, orgasmic kill shot.

It was a brilliant strategy that might help the Alliance win the war. A Starfighter was far more powerful but served as a bigger target, and took two specially trained men to fly. The bombers only took a single man with the most rudimentary skill. All you had to do was point, aim, and get the fuck out of the way.

"Numbers Five, Eight and Twelve," Keeler's clear voice crackled over the comm link, "target the sensor array on enemy vessel Two, set torpedoes to maximum—"

"Sorry, didn't quite catch that," Cain snarled, slamming his gloved fist into the comm link with a satisfying crunch. "But you're welcome—!" he swore, rotating 180 degrees left to avoid being decapitated—"To take your pushy little ass back to the _Sleipnir_, 'Commander Keeler', and see if you can fuck up a few more-shit! Eat that, bitches!-lives-!"

He soared over what he thought was Deimos—none of them had their own personal bomber, but he knew Deimos' firing style-smiling nastily when he saw the lead bomber swing to cut him off. Cain hopped like a skipping stone over its blunt little nose and laughed when it had to roll clumsily to avoid him.

"I got a month ahead of you flying this little piece of crap, Blondie," he growled, eyes darting for fresh targets on which to vent his frustration. One of the enemy ships was canted on its side in a slow death rotation and the other was currently a blast cloud dissipating into fine dust. Cain kicked in the thrusters, gritting his teeth as the bomber's tiny engine screamed in protest, and jumped away just as the drifting ship imploded into a white-hot flash of light.

Then maw of the Excelsior was opening and the bombers were zipping home and Cain counted them off rapidly as they darted by. His stomach clenched as he counted one missing and he prayed to a God he didn't believe in it hadn't been one of his friends.

As soon as his feet hit the hangar bay deck he ripped off his helmet, shouting in Russian, "Myshonok! Where the fuck are you answer me?!"

There were groans and curses of pain, heat rising off the parked ships making his face run with sweat. In mounting desperation he shouted Deimos' name and then he saw Keeler's blond head, arm around an injured man and Deimos helping him and he wanted to weep with joy.

"Cain!"

He spun as Praxis limped up to him, face white with pain and streaked with exhaust soot and tears or sweat, Cain couldn't tell. His heart skipped a beat as he looked frantically around the deck; where was-?

"Juno!" He screamed but there was no answer and then Praxis was grabbing him by the shoulders.

"Cain, stop, STOP, you're bleeding all over the deck you fucking crazy gypsy-!"

"Juno! Praxis, where the fuck is Juno?!"

Praxis swore and lifted him bodily, arm around his chest with Cain's back locked to his front. Just like the shower the other day…..Except now he was dragging Cain away, kicking and screaming in despair. One of the battered bombers had been towed into the bay, ruined beyond repair…As was Juno's lifeless body, which was being pried from its crumpled remains.

* * *

Praxis

Sitting on the edge of the sickbay cot Praxis watched the medics bustle about, tending to the half dozen wounded men. It was something he'd thought about a lot lately, becoming a medic, healing people instead of killing them. The Alliance would pay for his schooling after the war, and as long as he could pass the entrance exams….

He hung his head, rubbing his ruined eye as the old injury sent a spark of pain through his head. After the war, he snorted, shaking his head. Who the hell was he kidding? They were getting picked off out here one by one. Today it had been Juno, tomorrow or an hour or a week from now, maybe him.

_It should have been me_, he thought despondently, watching Keeler sitting and holding the hand of a fighter twice his size who was gasping in pain. Juno was barely twenty but had a beautiful young wife and a little girl who had just turned one. Praxis wondered what that was like, to have a family who loved you and couldn't wait for you to come home.

_Don't be an idiot….of course I do._

Juno would be coming home in a box now, and his little daughter would never even know him. As Praxis watched, the medics set a regenerator cast on the leg of the fighter Keeler was comforting. Praxis recognized him as the squat little turd that had wanted Deimos. He wasn't so tough now, tears running down his face and looking at Keeler as if no one had ever shown him a kindness in his entire, mean little life. He didn't look much older than Juno….

Praxis jumped off the cot and bolted to the head with his hand clamped over his mouth. He threw himself down before the toilet and emptied the contents of his stomach in a long, expulsive heave. How many times he retched he lost count, tears running down his cheek and clammy sweat making his shirt and hair cling to him. When the wave passed, he hunched there miserably, shaking and gasping and then someone reached over him to silently flush the toilet.

"Fuck; get-get the fuck out!" Praxis gasped but Cain just tched and handed him a wet rag.

"Fuck you; Jesus, you done yet or not, Cyclops?" Cain said quietly, hand on Praxis' back.

Praxis hung there weak and humiliated and gave a little half-sob. "Yeah I'm fucking done, you s-son of a bitch," he trembled. "I'm done with this _shit._" He sat back clumsily on his heels, wishing he could puke again, anything, rather than cry in front of Cain.

"Fuck this!" he sobbed, sitting on the stinking floor, tired of being cold and hungry and exhausted all the time. "They wanna kill someone? They can fucking kill _me_! I don't fucking care anymore!"

He hugged his knees to his chest and bawled, helpless to stop the flood of grief once it had started. The door opened and Cain swore at someone who hastily retreated. They both sat there, Cain silent and just letting him get it all out, standing and returning with a disposable cup and water.

"Rinse your mouth," he ordered and Praxis did. He helped Praxis stand clumsily and guided him shakily from the sickbay, Praxis hanging his blotchy face from the curious stares of his shipmates.

Halfway down the corridor Praxis shrugged Cain's arm off his shoulders. "I can walk," he said gruffly.

"So walk," Cain snapped.

When Praxis realized he'd laid it there a second time, he didn't say a word.

* * *

Encke

Some men turned to dope or alcohol to mask their pain; other's buried themselves in work. Encke was doing a bit of each, working hours past even his strong body's endurance, and then drinking himself to sleep. It was better than burying himself in Abel's more than willing body and then dealing with the crushing guilt the following day. After that first blissful night, when Abel had laid across his bed pliant and moaning in pleasure Encke had forced himself to keep his big stupid hands to himself.

Fuck, it wasn't easy. He had to assure Abel he wasn't angry so the little blond's feelings wouldn't be hurt. Most mornings were the same: wake up hard, sneak into the head before Abel caught him, jerk off in the shower. Then he'd come out to dress for duty and Abel would be sprawled on his stomach naked, sleeping with the sheet draped over the sweet curves of his ass….And Encke would swear and lock himself in the head for another half hour again.

The soundtrack to his lust was Keeler's voice telling him he loved him and wanted to spend the rest of his life with him. Encke had cried over Keeler, cursed and hated him and missed him like someone had cut off his right arm. There wasn't a morning he didn't wake up and stroke the braid that was hidden in his locker, smelling the scent of his lover on the fine strands and holding it to his face in misery.

Sometimes, he thought darkly, it might have been easier if they'd never even met.

"Encke?" Abel asked him one evening when they were sitting in Encke's office, going over crew evaluations, "How many navigators have you had?"

Encke chuckled and shook his head. "Too damn many to count, son. Only really remember four of 'em."

Abel was politely quiet but Encke knew he was waiting for more. "Job, Aaron, Keeler, and now you."

He paused and smiled remembering. "Oh yeah and Tibalt, heh, how could I forget him?" He cocked his head and chuckled at Abel. "Skinny little scared rabbit that shouldn't a never been in the Alliance. Kid could fly, though."

Abel leaned his elbow on Encke's desk, chin in hand. "What were the other two like?"

"Well," Encke said, adding his electronic signature to a batch of files, "Job whooped my rookie ass, and Aaron fucked it." At Abel's wide eyes and red face, Encke laughed. Damn, the boy was too damn fun to tease. Definitely not as 'worldly' as Keeler.

"I can't imagine anyone 'whooping' you," Abel said with a smile.

"Hm. He was about half your size and he knocked me on my ass first time we met. I was a cocky little prick though, I damn well deserved it."

They were quiet for a few moments, trading a few comments back and forth about the last batch of navigators that had come through, and then Abel spoke.

"You said his name the other night."

Encke could tell by his hesitant tone he'd been sitting on that one awhile. He looked up at Abel's bent blond head, lip between his teeth and a faint blush to his cheeks. He wondered if the rumors were true, that Cain had fucked his virginity out of him at the ripe ol' age of 24? Shit, the kid still acted like a virgin. Ah goddammit he was gettin' hard again….

"Well, Job's kinda been my guardian angel whenever I manage to fuck up my life, which I am too damn good at doin'."

Abel's dark brows pulled into a frown and Encke reached across the table and snagged his arm.

"And yeah, baby, that was one of my better fuck-ups the other night, and it ain't gonna happen again. Not that I don't want it to."

"Ok," Abel said in a quiet voice, and Encke couldn't tell if he was hurt or relieved.

They worked in silence for another fifteen minutes or so, and then Abel ventured, "What if they never come back?"

_Would you want me? _

Fuck all this bullshit girlie talk, and just fuck the kid over the desk, he thought. That's what you both want….

"They're comin' back, baby," Encke smiled sadly. "They have to."

* * *

Deimos

When the last man began to snore in the darkness of the barracks, Deimos slipped down from his bunk and stood hesitantly in the dark before Juno's bed. It wasn't Juno's bed anymore; Juno was dead and Deimos closed his eyes briefly, remembering the sight of his battered body lying in the ship's morgue.

Juno was sweet for a fighter, mellow tempered and beautiful and the last person who should have died. Even Cain, who claimed he didn't like anyone, had been unusually subdued since the young fighter's death.

Keeler was curled up on his side, on Juno's mattress, facing the wall. He'd been sleeping there for over a week since Juno had been killed, huddled into a miserable ball and crying himself quietly to sleep most nights when he thought no one could hear him. Deimos felt Keeler's misery and loneliness blanket their corner of the barracks like a depressing fog. It had to be awful for him here; the only navigator in a group of cruel fighters, hated by Stone and longing for his lover.

Deimos cast a glance at Cain, sleeping just a few feet away from Keeler but he was lying on his stomach with his arm stretched loose at his side. Carefully, so as not to startle Keeler Deimos laid a hand on his shoulder and spoke softly.

"Can I talk to you?" he whispered. Keeler looked up at him, his eyes puffy and exhaustion lining his delicate features. He nodded and Deimos quickly slid under the covers beside him, scooting in to the space close to the wall. Deimos was good at hiding, being so small. No one would even know he was lying next to the other man unless they were really looking.

Keeler seemed to sense Deimos secrecy so he lay there waiting, head turned towards Deimos with their faces on the pillow just inches apart. Deimos indulged himself in a brief moment of simply staring. He'd never been this close to Keeler before, and probably never would be again. He was beautiful, like an angel or one of those dolls that were meant to be placed in a cabinet away from clumsy hands. Deimos licked his lips and leanded forward, placing his mouth close to Keeler's ear.

"I saw Lieuteneant Stone talking to one of the crew tonight. He knows your keycode, and plans to wait for you in your room tomorrow night."

He didn't mention that he'd heard Stone boasting about it while Deimos was in his bathroom, rinsing the man's come out of his mouth. Stone had bribed a yeoman with a bottle of cheap vodka into giving him the code to Keeler's room.

The yeoman also gave him a length of rope and broken broom handle. Deimos knew what he planned to do with those.

Keeler's eyes were frightened, huge and blue and then he took a deep breath and smiled tightly. "Thank you for telling me, Deimos," he whispered. One slim hand curled around Deimos wrist and gave it a squeeze.

"I can kill him, if you want me to."

He'd thought about it then, coming out and slitting the brute's throat while he lay in a drunken stupor. But there would be an investigation, and a search, and he'd have to get rid of his favorite knife. So he'd waited to see what Keeler would want him to do.

Keeler grew very still and regarded him steadily, the frightened look replaced by an icy calm.

"That won't be necessary, Deimos," he whispered. "I'll take care of it."

Deimos frowned, worried. "He'll hurt you, Keeler. He's going to rape you, you can't confront him alone."

Keeler smiled fleetingly, and reached a hand up to stroke the fringe away from Deimos' eyes.

"Your eyes are so pretty, Deimos," he murmured softly. "I don't know why you hide them all the time."

Deimos swallowed hard and laid a hand tentatively against Keeler's cheek. "I don't want him to hurt you," he whispered, the thought of the cruel man with his hands on Keeler making him sick. He decided if Keeler was going to be stubborn he would find Stone tonight and get the job done himself.

Keeler smiled sadly. "I know you don't, sweetheart," he said, turning his face to press a soft kiss to Deimos' palm.

It sent a shiver through Deimos and he was painfully aware of how close they were, how Keeler's legs were tangled up in his in the narrow bunk and how their chests were almost touching. With a flush of arousal he felt himself grow heavy between his legs and he started to pull away.

"I should go; let you sleep," he mumbled but Keeler's hand curled around his wrist again, thumb rubbing the center of his hand and Deimos gasped, feeling his face flush hot.

"Don't go," Keeler pleaded, pulling Deimos against his body.

_You don't belong to me,_ Deimos' mind whispered but then he was pressing his mouth to Keeler's and fighting to keep from moaning out loud. Keeler didn't feel anything like Cain, or Praxis, or any of the other men Deimos let fuck him. He felt like Abel, soft and supple and submissive.

_Like a girl_, Deimos thought with a shudder, as Keeler pressed urgently against him and something very male rubbed against his thigh. Deimos would probably never have a girl writhing against him though he thought about it all the time. He never dreamed Keeler would be writhing against him, either, which was actually the next best thing. He rolled himself partially atop the panting blond and started a tortuously slow grind against his crotch with his hard, flexing thigh. Keeler's hands grabbed his ass, squeezing and then tugged at his shorts and Deimos rose up enough to get them both naked enough so that they were skin on skin from the waist down.

Keeping as silent as possible was intensely erotic and Keeler seemed to go a little crazy when Deimos grabbed his wrists and pinned them firmly to either side of his head. Deimos pulled back enough to ghost his mouth over Keeler's lips, not quite kissing, letting his tongue lightly lick and tease. Keeler was shaking with the effort to stay quiet and desperately trying to rub against Deimos . The harder he writhed the more Deimos pressed him tightly to the mattress, circling his hips and trapping Keeler's leaking dick against his own.

A breathy whimper escaped Keeler's lips, lost under the low thrum of the ship's engines but it was like a scream of ecstasy in Deimos' ear. He crushed his mouth against Keeler's and thrust his tongue hotly inside and then, oh God, Keeler was trembling all over and pulsing hot between them. Deimos managed to last another ten seconds, tops, before coming with a gasp, burying his face against Keeler' s soft, smooth hair.

"Thank you, milaya moya," Deimos whispered, kissing Keeler's sleepy face tenderly. He wiped them clean and Keeler smiled sweetly before wrapping his arms around him and sighing into sleep.

Deimos closed his eyes and let the racing of his heart slow, a small smile playing on his lips. That was nice….completely unexpected but Deimos wasn't complaining.

He opened his eyes and looked across the narrow aisle into Cain's dark bunk, watching lazily as Cain clenched his teeth into his pillow to keep from screaming as he came. He fell back gasping against his pillow, looking at Deimos entwined with a sleeping Keeler with a huge, secret grin.

Deimos winked at him, pressing a kiss to Keeler's sleeping face, and closed his eyes with a tiny smile.

* * *

Athos

"Hi kitten, I hope you get this message okay because I've had to wait a frickin' _hour_ behind six other guys and I think the ship's moving out of comm range pretty soon. I just want you to know I miss you like my left nut-,"

"More like his left eye," Athos giggled to Abel who was watching intently over his shoulder. Behind them, perched on Athos' bunk with his back against the wall Encke made a sound of amusement and disgust.

"I tell you what, 'kitten', he starts whipping his dick out so's you two can have online sex, I am outta here."

Abel grinned up at him, cheeks pink as Praxis continued to express his undying love for Athos for several more minutes. Encke made a face and closed his eyes with a shudder.

"…place sucks _ass_ like you wouldn't believe, field rations to eat and cold showers and a fuckin' _barracks_ with twenty other stinky guys farting all night in their sleep…."

"Ooo," Athos purred with interest, "sounds like fun!"

"….better though with Cain and Deimos here, me and Cain might even be friends after this, haha, can you believe it….? I suppose you guys heard about Juno by now, fuck that was some fucked up shit and I miss the little kid so bad….It was really hard on Commander Keeler…."

"What?!" Abel and Athos both said at this same time, whipping aroud to stare at Encke who was studiously avoiding their gaze.

"You never said Keeler was -!" Abel started.

"_Encke_! Why didn't you _tell_ us?!" Athos demanded, and gave Encke a dirty look when he told him he had a big mouth.

"Go back; go back to that last part," Abel asked eagerly and Athos reversed the stream to pick up Praxis talking about Commander Keeler, wow!

"….It was really hard on Commander Keeler; he boxed up all of Juno's stuff to ship home with his body and then had to message his wife. She'd already been told by the CAO (Casualty Assistance Officer) but Keeler wanted to talk to her himself."

Praxis paused and Athos felt tears well in his eyes at how thin and sad he looked. "Keeler let us guys talk to her awhile too. She's so young, kitten; she looked like a little, scared kid. They had a baby girl too, a cute little thing we got to see her for a minute, she looked just like Juno."

Praxis looked down and swallowed and Athos felt a tear roll down either side of his face. Abel took his hand and he felt Encke lean in behind them, resting a big, warm hand on his back.

When Praxis looked up, he laid his hand against the image screen and Athos laid his against it on his tablet window, crying a little.

"I miss you, kitten, I really do," Praxis said thickly. His eyes welled up and he blinked hard, and someone that sounded like Cain said in the background, 'wrap it up Cyclops and give us a turn!' Praxis gave a watery little chuckle and flipped somebody off over his shoulder. "Okay these assholes want their turn, so I gotta go. I love you, kitten, and I'll see you soon."

"Oh!" Athos sniffled, unable to stop the huge smile that was splitting his face, "Oh isn't he a keeper?!"

"Okay Athos, now that loverboy's used up all the time," Cain scowled at the comm, dark and sexy and Abel made a gasp of shock at his scowling face, "I've got approximately five minutes to tell Princess how hard I'm gonna fuck him when I see him again; I hope you two go to hell and live unhappily ever after, puke!"

"Well some things ain't changed much," Encke commented dryly from behind them.

Abel was trembling all over as Cain's intense face stared out at them, and Athos put a comforting arm around his skinny shoulders.

"You hear that, baby?" he drawled seductively. He ran his tongue over his lips and Abel made a strangled sound of embarrassment and covered his face with his hands. "Remember that time we did it all night after getting stoned with Myshonok? Well what I got planned for us when I get back's gonna make that look like a two minute hand-job in the john at school. I'm gonna bend your naked little ass over the side of the bed and-!"

"Mute it; Mute it!" Abel was crying in horror but Athos was rolling with laughter while batting Abel's frantic hands from the screen. "You better NOT be listening to that later and jerking off, Athos!" he retorted hotly, and Athos wanted to jump up and down with glee.

"Oh of course not, sweetie," he lied, and then they both turned back to the screen as Cain was hollering, "Hey Myshonok; get your ass over here to say hi to princess before the time runs out!"

Deimos smiling face popped into the screen. "Hi Athos; hi Abel," he said softly. He smiled secretively and rattled off a fluid stream of something in Russian that made Abel's ears turn red. When he was done he blew a little kiss at the screen and then the connection winked out.

Athos turned big eyes on Abel. "What did he say?!"

Abel bit his lip and blushed like an adorable virgin, and said, "Um, nothing just that he misses me."

Athos pursed his lips and Encke let out a belly laugh while Abel giggled. "Suuure Abel;" Athos said, "whatever you say."

"I wonder why Keeler didn't come say hi?" Abel queried, and they both looked back at Encke.

He smiled mysteriously and said, "oh I got mine this mornin'. Keeler's doin' just fine."

I just bet you got yours, Athos thought, but smiled at the hunky lead fighter. "Oh that's great, Encke. Tell him we said hi."

"What did Praxis mean by 'I'll see you soon'?" Abel asked.

Encke looked at both of them with an exasperated sigh. "This does not leave this room you hear me?" he said, glaring pointedly at Athos. Definitely a spanker, Athos thought, squirming excitedly.

They both nodded and Encke went on, "The _Excelsior_ is due for a repair layover and refueling, and since we're the largest ship in the area, they'll rendezvous with the _Sleipnir_ in 48 hours." He paused then went on, "Rumor has it peace talks are comin' soon."

Abel nodded, and Athos smiled. "Oh we heard that one too, they've piddling around talking for months now, I hope it's true this time!"

Encke leaned over them and said sternly, "And if either of you leak this information you'll be confined to quarters _without _your fighters for the duration of their stay. Am I making myself clear, gentlemen?"

Athos gulped and they both squeaked out an affirmative. Might be fun to let this one slip, Athos thought after Encke and Abel left his quarters, just to see what it would be like to be punished by Encke.

With a little shiver he reset the message, fast forwarding to Cain's little hello to Abel.

* * *

Deimos

Five minutes after he woke up alone in Juno's bunk, Deimos knew exactly why Keeler had slept with him the night before.

"Shit!" He gasped in a blind panic, yanking off the blanket and scrambling upright. He started pulling on the first pair of pants he found and yelled, "Cain, Praxis, get up! Commander Keeler's gone!"

From the far end of the barracks Deimos heard a few choice curses thrown his way but he didn't care. Keeler had kept him there last night so Deimos couldn't go kill that animal Stone, Keeler had slipped out this morning to go find the man himself. Visions of Keeler bound and brutalized made bile rise in Deimos' throat and he swore to himself if Stone had laid one hand on the beautiful navigator he'd gut the man and strangle him with his own entrails.

"Shu' the fu' up, c'mon, Deimos'" Praxis groaned from his bunk above Cain. "Goddam' woke me up 'afore Athos was dun goin' down on me…."

Cain glared up at Deimos from under his unruly black hair. "The fuck's wrong with you Myshonok waking everybody up?" he growled. "Blondie's probably just in the can touchin' up his ro-oo-oots," he finished on a huge yawn.

But Deimos was scrambling like a monkey into his own bunk and rifling through his kit for his knife; knife, come on where the fuck did he leave it? "No he's gone to find Stone," Deimos explained in Russian, shoving the knife inside his boot with shaking hands. He was furious with Keeler but with himself most of all. _He_ was the one who used sex as a weapon but he'd let himself be seduced by Keeler and now if something happened to him, Deimos would never forgive himself. Sometimes he wondered if Keeler shouldn't have been a fighter instead of a navigator after all.

"And I care why….?" Cain asked groggily, sitting up to light his first cigarette of the day.

"Because I told him Stone was going to ambush him in his room to pay him back for making a fool of him;" Deimos said rapidly in Russian, almost in tears." Stone wants to tie him up and shove a broomstick up him—!"

Cain looked at him in revulsion, dropping his lighter to the floor with a dull 'clunk'. "Jesus f-ing Christ that's f-ing sick."

"I've got to go find him," Deimos said frantically, but before he could sprint to the barracks door it whooshed open and a grim faced Captain Benjamin entered the room. Deimos had only seen the man twice and he'd been smiling and fatherly but he didn't look anything like that now. Trembling he stood at attention but the Captain held up a hand before the rest of the men could rise out of their beds.

"At ease!" his booming voice sounded through the room. "I regret to inform you that Lieutenant Stone has been relieved of duty for the duration of our tour."

Deimos gripped the ladder rail of his bunk to keep from falling, legs trembling and skin going clammy with sweat. He could hear a low murmur of jubilation ripple through the still sleepy men; Stone was no one's favorite.

"Until the _Excelsior_ makes its repair stop, Commander Keeler will be assuming Lieutenant Stone's duties and I expect all of you to show him the same level of respect you have shown Lieutenant Stone." He paused and smiled tiredly. "This has been a most difficult tour gentlemen and I thank all of you for your efforts in the light of the hardships and losses you have suffered."

He paused a moment looking over at Juno's bunk with sorrow. "Commander Keeler will be joining you momentarily for further details and an update on the impending peace talks. Please be ready for a debriefing at 0900 hours. In the meantime, get some rest, all of you."

He turned on his heel and departed and everyone started talking all at once. Deimos stared at the closed door shaking with relief. Keeler was okay….and Captain Benjamin was Deimos' new idol.

"The fuck was _that_ all about?" Praxis asked in disbelief, looking wide eyed at Deimos but before he could answer the doors opened again and Keeler walked in to the room. He had a spectacular black eye and his face was paler than normal but he was walking without a limp. Deimos wanted to cry and run up and slap him at the same time.

"Holy shit!?" Cain sputtered and Keeler looked ruefully at them, smiling at Deimos tightly.

"Nothing happened; well not anything I couldn't handle; Stone's in custody," he explained to them in an under tone, and then raised his voice to address the room.

"Gentlemen, I have some important news," he said, and then his face crumpled and tears started down his cheeks. "The _Excelsior_ will rendezvous with the battle cruiser _Sleipnir_ for repairs," he gulped and looked around the room, "for repairs to the ship, and her crew. She will then be decommissioned—"

"What?!" someone shouted from the back of the barracks but Keeler gave a little half sob, half laugh and held up his hand.

"Peace talks are underway now on Starbase One between the Alliance and the Colteron Confederation," he sobbed, laughing, as the room erupted in cheers. "It looks like the war is finally over. We're going home."

* * *

Cain

"Christ, this is the same lousy transport we shipped out in," Cain complained, shoving his duffle under his seat. "Look, that gnarly wad of gum's still stuck under here ."

"So'd you guys hear?" Praxis leaned in to whisper to them conspiratorially, as the ship filled with jostling men. "Stone had a little 'accident' on his way to the brig."

"No shit?" Cain grinned. "What'd he do, fall and land on somebody's fist?"

"More than one. The fucker'll be eating _and_ pissing through a tube for a while, hee hee! He got stretchered out in cuffs and a neck brace, but nobody's talking."

He grinned gleefully and plopped down on Cain's left. "Captain Benjamin was _pissed_! Swore he's gonna make a full inquiry, but I heard another guy say the paperwork's already been trashed. "

Deimos giggled and Cain looked over at Praxis in disgust.

"Fuck Cyclops; you've been hanging around that little blabbermouth Athos long enough you're as gossipy as he is."

He dropped into his seat and started to belt in. A few seats down he could see Keeler talking and laughing with the little bulldog fighter like they were old friends. Crap; Keeler could probably charm the pants off Satan, Cain thought with a dark smile.

Deimos sighed, settling in to his seat on Cain's right. Cain grinned at him and whispered, "Ready to go home and see our Princess, Myshonok?"

"Mmm," Deimos closed his eyes and smiled happily. "I want to see a decent bed and a warm shower, too," he murmured.

"I want a decent meal," Praxis groaned, rubbing his stomach.

Cain leered at them both. "Fine, you couple of pussies. You two have your nap and cookies, and I'll be busy fucking all the girls!"

By the time they'd departed Deimos was already asleep with his fingers entwined with Cain's. Praxis fell asleep an hour later and after the third time Cain had shoved his big head off his shoulder, he gave up with an exasperated tch.

"Fucking Cyclops," he muttered, shifting to wrap an arm around Praxis' shoulder so he could lie more comfortably against him. "Crap will I be _glad_ to hand you back to Athos again."

He fell asleep himself a short time later, missing the little smile Keeler gave as he looked fondly at all three of them.

* * *

Abel

He was almost blue in the face by the time Cain let him come up for air.

"Miss me baby?" Cain panted against his mouth, laughing as Abel tried to wiggle unsuccessfully out of his iron grip. It didn't help that Deimos was wrapped around him too and pressing kisses all over his neck as fast as he could. Thank God the hangar deck was full of everyone else crying and kissing and practically having sex on two feet.

"Yes, I missed you both!" Abel gasped with a squeal. "Stop it! Which one of you has his hand in my pa-a-ants!?"

"Not me," they both chimed in innocently and before he could protest they were both kissing him again.

"Wait wait!" he panted, peeling Deimos' lips off his with a 'pop'. "I have a confession to make!"

"You fucked the Asshole," Cain guessed with a growl.

"Well, you fucked Praxis," Deimos added helpfully, smiling at Cain.

"Oh yeah? What was that little two-sheet tango you and Blondie were doing, Myshonok?!"

"Oh!" Abel wailed, "I forgot; I had sex with Keeler too!" He bit his lip and looked meekly at Cain. "Don'tbemadatmeokay?"

Cain looked at them both and grinned. "Okay. Long as I get to fuck Blondie too!"

* * *

Praxis

"Ohhh kitten," Praxis purred, rolling off Athos to sprawl sweaty and sated beside him. "Oh I missed you so much….."

Athos looked over at him, panting and disheveled and clothes thrown halfway across their quarters.

"Oh Praxie I missed you too," he said, rubbing his ass with a little wince. "But do you think we can actually make it to the bed next time? This floor is really cold."

"Oops, sorry kitten; my bad."

* * *

Encke

"I can't believe it's gotten this long again already, baby," Encke said, running his fingers through the loose mop of hair that crowned Keeler's head. "You only been gone a couple of months."

Keeler looked up at him with those big baby blues that Encke could drown himself in forever. Especially when they were looking back at him; full of love.

"And I'm never leaving you again," Keeler said softly, lying naked in his arms flushed from their lovemaking. He bit his lip and said, "Encke, stuff…happened, when we were….."

"Split up by this fuckin' war, cold an' lonely in the night?" Encke said quietly. "Yeah baby, I know. 'Stuff' happened here, too."

"Is that 'stuff going to happen ever again?"

"I don't plan on it."

Keeler smiled. "Yeah, me too." He sighed and Encke was profoundly happy to have him back in his arms, and to hell with the past.

"So are you ready to skip out the nearest airlock yet?" Keeler smiled. " I hear a transport's coming in tomorrow to start taking people to places where you don't wear anything but a tan."

"Already got us two tickets, baby."

"That's why I love you," Keeler smiled against his mouth. "You think of everything."

* * *

Epilog: Six months later

The peace accords were signed in three days, a rather anticlimactic end to a nearly seven year war. Rebuilding on both sides would take much longer, for earth, her colonies and the people that lived there.

* * *

In the Alliance courthouse room, Abel smiled nervously across the small desk into Cain's dark eyes.

"Ready, Princess?" Cain whispered and Abel drew a shaky breath and held out his left hand. He barely heard the Judge speak and then Cain answer as he slipped the simple platinum band on Abel's finger.

"I do," Abel said softly, and then it was his turn.

Deimos smiled at him as he waited for the Judge's words, then said softly, "I do," as Abel slipped a ring on his finger as well. Abel watched with joy as Deimos turned to Cain and the Judge spoke a third and final time. Cain swallowed hard and said, "I do," with a shaky smile as Deimos slipped the last ring on his finger.

The three of them joined hands as the Judge finished the final words and they responded in the appropriate places but Abel's mind was screaming, we're married! We're all finally married! The entire time.

The sun was bright as they walked out onto the courthouse steps, the wind blowing Abel's hair as they posed briefly for pictures. Abel's mother cried and Cain's sister threw birdseed at them, making Cain swear and flip her off. Deimos giggled and winked at his father who was crying and singing in Russian and kissing all three of them at once.

"Fuck do we have to go to this damn reception?" Cain groused as they piled into the limo Abel's father had ordered for the three of them.

"Yes, and stop being such a brat," Abel told him, wiping his mother's lipstick off his cheek. "Everyone's going to be there, and I want to meet the kids Encke and Keeler adopted."

"No kids," Cain snapped at him, glaring at Deimos too. "We already talked about this you two; we are NOT adopting any frickin' kids!"

He growled and patted his tux down for his smokes, muttering under his breath, "Bad enough I gotta have two husbands I am NOT being a dad, too….!"

"I heard Praxis got his eye fixed," Deimos said, changing the subject and handing Cain his cigarettes and lighter. "Athos says it's a perfect match, and Praxis looks really cute."

"Barf," Cain muttered, stuffing a cigarette in his mouth and Abel and Deimos looked at each other, stifling their giggles and counting silently together, one, two, three…

Cain lit his cigarette and took a drag and the pungent smell of weed filled the inside of the limo. His eyes nearly popped out of his head and Abel dissolved into laughter, quickly closing the privacy window between themselves and the driver.

"I hope it's okay I invited Anasha to our wedding?" Deimos asked innocently, taking the joint and pulling a drag from it before passing it to Abel.

Cain's face split into a huge grin. "The more pretty girls for me," he growled, looping his arms around them both, "the better. Hey driver!" he yelled, tapping on the window, "I'll give you an extra fifty to take the long way around!"

* * *

Thanks for reading, wow this was loooong! Captain Benjamin is based on Deep Space Nine's Benjamin Sisko who is probably my favorite Startrek character of all time :).

In the future not only will there be interracial, interfaith, same sex marriages but group marriages too; hippies and pot and peace and love for all. (The '60's were way ahead of their times.)

Hamletmachine owns the lovely Starfighter go read it online and spread the love!

I will confess this whole thing was an attempt to have some surprise pairings and bed hopping with a (hopefully) half-assed believable plot. Sorry if it's all over the map...!...After this I am drained I have no idea how anyone writes big long books without getting sick of it and frustrated ugh!-A2MOM

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